By Kristen Mudrack

I spent the last two weeks roaming around Colorado and Utah seeing God’s beautiful creation firsthand with a college trip. How amazing to drive through the San Juan mountains or how speechless to stand at the foot of a mountain of sand. How breathtaking the beauty of the view at Pikes Peak. How wonderful the sunsets and sunrises and the rain and – yes, even the snow.

Remember those sand dunes? And the mountains? They were formed by violent winds and plates shifting. Those things at we call beautiful were brought about by something devastating and powerful. If you will, think of those mountains and dunes and valleys and lakes as scars. They are the scars of what has happened in the past. And yet, they are beautiful.

We tend to look at scars differently. We see scars on our bodies and remember the awesome stories or the way that we injured ourselves. Scars on our hearts are a little bit less glamorous, though. When parents walk away, friends die, relationships end, someone hurts you – those stories aren’t usually the ones we tell. Those scars aren’t the ones we proudly show off. We tend to hide them. Bury them. Run away from them.

Just a few weeks ago, we celebrated Easter. You probably went to church and sang songs about Jesus’ resurrection and heard sermons that were really aimed towards all of the visitors that day. You probably responded to the pastor’s call of “He is risen!”, with “He is risen indeed.” But for all of that celebrating, how many of us remember the scars?

You’ve probably heard the story of Jesus appearing to doubting Thomas before. It’s nothing new. But look at what Jesus says. He says, “See my scars. Touch my wounds and believe.” The thing that Jesus presents to Thomas so that he will believe are his scars. The very same things that freed us from the bondage of sin, that we sing bout, that we call beautiful, are his scars. His scars were the proof. The thing that tore the veil and made a way for us to know him,the thing that makes him our savior,those were scars.

What if our scars should do the same thing? Help people believe?

What if, instead of hiding or pushing down our scars, we let God use them to ring people to him? To help them believe?

I used to hide behind my scars. The ones that only I could see. And then one day, God dragged me kicking and screaming out of my comfort zone and showed me why I had those scars – for his glory.

When I finally let God use my scars for his glory, I saw a glimpse of what God sees: beautiful scars. Scars that point to him, that tell of who he is. I still have a hard time seeing my scars, let alone myself, that way. But God is using other people’s scars to show me his heart. He’s even using the scars on the earth that I’ve seen these two weeks to remind me of his glory, his majesty, and his beautiful scars.

So what story do your scars tell?